


Just A Little Pinprick

by Wintryone



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Addiction, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke becomes best friends with the cute and sweet Dalish elf, Merrill. Yet this light-hearted friendship leads down a dark and dangerous path. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little Pinprick

Happy, carefree and chatty Merrill.

Always with a smile and a giggle for everyone and everything. Her sweet naiveté had charmed them all, well, except for Fenris. It was impossible to charm the broody, moody elf. But Varric and Isabela had practically adopted her, and Hawke would often catch stodgy Aveline smiling at her antics. She'd even caught her brother eyeing Merrill in that way he had, as if she were an interesting prospect, romantically speaking.

It was only Anders who'd tried to warn Hawke.

"Once you open a vein," he'd said, "You're fodder for every demon in the Fade."

Yet Hawke could hardly take him seriously, considering he was technically an abomination himself. It was impossible not to like the Dalish elf, especially when she paid Hawke so very much attention. Merrill followed her around everywhere she went. She always stopped by Uncle Gamlen's to invite her out to explore the city in what she called their  _adventures_.

Merrill was fun, and was always there for Hawke. It was impossible to have a depressing thought around the elf – her lighthearted and silly moods were contagious, and after all she'd been through, Hawke thought it was just what she needed. It kept her from thinking of Bethany's loss, and the wretchedness of living with her despot uncle and whining mother. What good was introspection when it only brought you pain?

Hawke decided that the past was best left to itself. There was nothing she could do about it, after all, and why dwell on what she couldn't change? What good could it possibly do? No, it was best to keep moving on, moving forward, and not think of the bad times at all.

It was so easy, whenever she felt lonely or sad, to walk around the corner and down the stairs to the alienage. This particular morning, Hawke had awoken from a nightmare of Bethany being mutilated by that ogre… again. She didn't even stop for breakfast, but threw on her robes and was out the door, amid protests from her mother.

* * *

"Hawke!" Merrill exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm so glad you've come! I was just thinking of you."

Hawke smiled at the young elf. "I was thinking of you, too."

"I love how you visit me almost every morning," Merrill said. "We should make it a regular date." And Merrill giggled.

"It's a deal then," Hawke agreed with a smile. "Breakfast with Merrill from now on."

Merrill clapped her hands together in delight. "I'm afraid I've only got yesterday's porridge for us to eat," she said. "But I have a little treacle to put on it."

"You know how I love treacle, my friend," Hawke said as she took her seat.

The chatted amiably together between bites of cold porridge, and Hawke was enjoying herself so much, she finally had to ask, "Merrill, you've been through so much – lost so much – yet you're always so cheerful. How do you do it?"

Merrill ducked her head and grinned up at Hawke sheepishly. "I  _have_  been meaning to talk to you about that," she said.

"You mean there is a secret recipe?" Hawke asked with a laugh.

Merrill's large eyes began to shine, and a knowing smile curved her lips. "There is," she replied. "It's quite simple, actually." She took a small knife from the sheath at her belt, and hovered the tip over her forearm. "Just the tiniest little prick, and I'm filled with joy."

Hawke suddenly felt uneasy. "Merrill, blood magic isn't real happiness." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "It comes from demons. It's dangerous."

Merrill shook her head vigorously. "No, Hawke. You're wrong! There are good spirits in the Fade, too. Helpful spirits. They'd never hurt me, or anyone, I promise you."

Hawke watched as Merrill took the tip of the knife and pricked the skin over a plump, blue vein in her arm. It was as if someone had suddenly lit a warm fire on a cold night, or turned on a light in a darkened room. Hawke could feel powerful, uplifting energy begin to permeate the room, as Merrill caste a simple light spell to use the blood she had spilled.

She then held out her arm to Hawke. "Heal it for me, my friend?" she asked.

Hawke hesitated only briefly, before she sent a wash of healing energy over Merrill's tiny, little wound. The lingering effects of Merrill's blood magic seemed to infuse itself within Hawke's spell, and she felt a sudden, unexpected happiness fill her.

"Oh," Hawke said on a breath. "That was…."

"It's wonderful," Merrill finished for her. "You should try it. I promise you, it's perfectly safe."

Hawke was feeling very good in that moment, and she found she craved more. "You're sure? Father always said I should never, ever use blood magic." Those thoughts made her feel bad again, and she frowned, unsure of what was right anymore.

"Hawke, I care about you. I would never put you in danger," Merrill said and took Hawke's hand in hers. She held out her ritual knife, hilt first. "Go on, give it a try."

"I shouldn't," Hawke said. "I don't think I could… cut myself that way."

Merrill's smile brightened. "I could do it for you this first time," she suggested. "It doesn't hurt at all, I promise."

The glittering, reflected light from the knife's silver blade seemed to hypnotize Hawke, and she found herself nodding slowly, without really knowing that she'd made her decision.

Merrill didn't wait for more confirmation from her friend, instead she ran a finger lightly along a pulsing vein in Hawke's wrist, then brought the tip of the knife to it. "Take a deep breath, Hawke," she said. "You're going to love it, I know you will."

As the knife-tip pierced her skin, and the tiny well of blood oozed from her wrist, Hawke found that Merrill was right. There was the smallest discomfort that lasted no more than a heartbeat, and then she was filled with emotions so blissful that she found herself lighting all the candles in the room with her magic, not knowing she'd meant to do so.

"Merrill," Hawke said on a soft breath. "Merrill, that was fantastic." For a moment she'd thought she'd heard a dark and sinister laughter, but she shrugged it off as her imagination. "How long before we can do it again?" she asked eagerly.

* * *

As the weeks and months passed, Hawke found her  _self_  and her magic growing more and more powerful. It wasn't long before simple fire and ice spells were not enough to contain the huge amount energy she was able to release, and Merrill began to teach her new spells. Spells specifically designed for use with just the smallest drop of blood.

Hawke was careful not to let the others see what she was doing. Instead of a knife, she'd purchased a long, sharp pin, which she kept hidden within her glove. It was so easy to clench her fist in just the right way, and release the power within her blood. It was exhilarating – so much better than mana and lyrium potions, that she could hardly believe she'd waited so long to try it.

If she felt a vague sense of unease, if she occasionally caught her friends eyeing her speculatively, she shrugged it off. It was much nicer to be a cheerful, chatty Hawke than the sad, morose figure she'd been when she'd first came to Kirkwall.

When she heard that faraway, echoing laughter in her mind, she smiled and laughed with it. Everything was so wonderful now, and she and Merrill had become as close as sisters. They did everything together, talked about their thoughts and feelings, and whispered their secrets to each other at all hours of the day and night. It was giddy beyond Hawke's wildest dreams.

Until, that was, Hawke's dreams began to change. Her experiences in the Fade were no longer pleasant romps in a beautiful setting, or even bad dreams from her past. Instead, they had become nightmares, where she was hunted by unknown beings whom she could not see. She could only hear their taunting laughter, and she would awaken each morning, sweating and shivering in her bed. She found that if she just pricked herself the tiniest bit, she would feel better very quickly. Yet, she also found that if she didn't keep incredibly busy throughout the day, the dark laughter would erupt in her mind.

The solution was, of course, to take on even more jobs and help even more people, which did work for a while. She found she had to prick herself more and more to keep up with the pace she had set for herself, but didn't let that bother her. It hardly seemed like a big deal at all, she'd grown so used to it. There was also the added advantage that she nearly had the coin for the Deep Roads expedition.

She really wanted to bring Merrill along to the Deep Roads, but knew Anders was a much better choice, considering he was technically still a Grey Warden. She'd even managed to convince Aveline to take leave from the city guard, because the way Fenris looked at her these days made Hawke very, very uncomfortable. Anders watched her carefully, too – but there wasn't the same condemnation in his eyes.

All in all, Hawke thought she was happier than she'd ever been, and Merrill was the best friend she'd ever had. She felt so lucky, and so privileged that Merrill had shared with her such a wonderful secret. Hawke endured the nightmares, because she couldn't imagine life without her new, special power or her perfect,  _special_  friend.

* * *

It happened as they were deep in the city's underground, escorting a Qunari mage to his freedom. Merrill was with her, as were Fenris and Isabela. They'd been attacked by a group of thugs, and the Saarebas had let loose an explosion of power at the same time Hawke had pricked the inside of her wrist with her needle.

The laughter, which had always been a faint echoing in her mind, now filled the chamber, and Hawke felt her body begin to heat up, then nearly freeze, in an endless vacillation she couldn't control. Her eyesight began to waver, making the room appear as if she were seeing it through thick glass, as light refracted in prisms of color, which nearly blinded her.

"Help me," she whispered, but no one heard her, as they were too busy fighting the thugs.

The Saarebas, however, had noticed something, because he began to grumble and mumble through his sewn lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself, and began to glow with the blue light of mana.

Suddenly, Hawke was terrified. What was the Qunari doing? His eyes were focused on hers so intently, as he gathered his power once again. She needed to stop him, needed to…

 _Darkness_.

* * *

When Hawke next awoke, she was in a room that at first she did not recognize, laying on a bed unfamiliar to her. She felt so very weak. So much so that when she tried to sit up, she couldn't put her weight on her own arms to do so, and let out a soft moan.

Fenris appeared in her vision. "So, you are awake," he said, his voice filled with derision.

"F-Fenris…" she murmured.

"You've had a lucky escape, Hawke," he said. "If the Saarebas had not destroyed the demon taking control of you…" He shook his head. "I would have killed you myself."

"Demon?" she asked. It was really so much effort to speak.

"You think we did not know Merrill had corrupted you? Taught you blood magic?" He laughed without humor. "I had thought more highly of you than this."

"Where," she began. "Merrill…"

"Even Isabela agreed we had to give her to the Circle," Fenris stated. "She was a danger to everyone. Most especially to you."

Hawke cleared her throat, and thought of her dear little friend locked away in the Gallows. She felt so many things at once - fear, grief... and relief? She felt relieved that Merrill was locked away? What was wrong with her?

Yet, some of her strength was returning, and she didn't want to talk to Fenris about Merrill. "Why am I here?"

Fenris stared down at her for a long moment, before he replied. "So that I could kill you, should another demon attempt to possess you."

Hawke felt a surge of panic flow through her limbs at the thought of Fenris killing her. She wanted to get up, to run away, but knew she didn't have the strength. For now, she was at his mercy.

"You have been unconscious for two days, Hawke," he continued. "And there has been no sign of demons. Perhaps you are safe, at last."

She felt horrible. Weak in her body, depressed in her mind and aching in her heart. Was she safe? Would she ever be safe? The temptation to feel so wonderful again it would always be there, always tempt and taunt her. "I don't know," she told him. "I don't know if I can…"

"Resist?" asked Fenris. "Rest assured, Hawke, you will resist. All of your true friends agreed. I am to remain at your side for the duration. I will not let you falter."

His words snuck into her heart and stirred something she'd nearly forgotten. A feeling came over her, of being truly cared for - a feeling reminiscent of her father's care for her. It was a painful feeling, but it also made her feel… alive, in a way she hadn't for so very long. "Why?" she asked. "Why would you do this for me?"

"Because, Hawke," he said, speaking more gently now. He sat on the side of the bed and took her hand, which he then turned over and ran a finger along the scars on her wrist. "Because you are worth it. You became no more than a thrall to Merrill, and I will not let that happen to you again."

At his touch, Hawke found tears welling in her eyes. What had she done? How had she allowed herself to forget and deny everything she knew to be good and true? A well of gratitude rose up within her. "Thank you, Fenris," she said. "Though I don't deserve it." Hawke lowered her eyes in shame.

"Do you not?" he asked. "Perhaps in time, you will remember that you do."

_In time._

_Perhaps._

She could only hope he was right.

* * *

_**END** _


End file.
